


Strung Up

by TheBlobfishPerson



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Guilty Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Hurt, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Insecurity, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, M/M, Sad Jaskier | Dandelion, Spy Jaskier | Dandelion, Torture, Whump, Wrongful Imprisonment, eventually, he will suffer, little bit of game canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:22:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23643808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBlobfishPerson/pseuds/TheBlobfishPerson
Summary: Jaskier was working as a spy in the city of Flotsam, investigating the local gang. He thought he had remained unnoticed but one night men come to arrest him. They bring him to prison where he is beaten and hurt mercilessly only to be told he will be hung.Geralt receives word of his bard's imprisonment, he races across the continent in hopes of making it in time.Will he make it? And even if he does, will his bard be forever changed?Based loosely off of a plotline in the witcher two
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 13
Kudos: 78





	1. Imprisonment

Jaskier has been in this town for a few days, he's been playing sets in many of the inns and has been familiarizing himself with the locals. He's been trying to say unobtrusive but with his loud clothing and demeanor, that part of the plan never seems to play out...

There have been a few whispers of foul play here and there mostly pertaining to the administrator: Lorendo. He's been sniffing about but hasn't found anything concrete so far. Only more whispers.

The sun has begun to set so he grabs his lute and heads to the fourth inn, one he hasn't played at yet and hope there might be something to learn from its patrons. It's a little bit seedier than the taverns he usually plays at but it's as good a place as any to try and collect information.

Jaskier fluttered about the crowded inn playing a local favorite. The crowd beat their hands and feet on every available surface spurring him. The smell of spilled ale and mediocre food filled the small room making a perfect atmosphere for the bard’s more rowdy tavern songs. This was, after all the right crowd for some upbeat drinking songs, he severely doubted he would be able to play any of the ballads he's been working on without having things thrown at him.

As he danced and sang he made sure to keep an eye and an ear out for any of those whispers that he hoped to find and to any particularly seedy character whom he might be able to loosen their tongue with a few tankards of ale. 

As he continued his set he noticed a few men in the back that did not join in the revelry, they merely eyed him. Making Jaskier uncomfortable he stayed as far as possible from them. He hoped he had not been able to draw any unwanted attention in the few days he's been on his own but as they continued to gather it was hard to believe they were there for any positive reasons. 

Jaskier, painting with extension and the excitement that came from a good set, bowed low to the welcoming crowd as he said his farewells and collected his coin from his audience. With one last bow, he made his way to the stairs fully intending to retire for the night without doing any of the sleuthing he had planned. But, before he could get to them the men that had been gathering at the back of the room swarmed around him.

They quickly cornered him in the alcove at the beginning of the stairs, cutting off all possible exits. Trapping him and crowding him. Jaskier raised his hands in an appeasing motion at them.

One of the men grabbed a raised arm of his and declared “You are under arrest bard.”

Jaskier spluttered as he tried to wrench his arm away only to have his other taken as well. He said to the men “there must be some mistake, I've done nothing wrong!” While trying to keep his best crowd-pleasing smile on but it shook under the force of his anxiety.

The man that had first spoken twisted Jaskier’s arm cruelty behind him bringing the brad to his knees with a pained gasp and said. “You're under arrest for debauchery.” He then hoisted the no longer resisting bard up by his painfully twisted arm and began to drag him out of the inn.

Jaskier whimpered and uttered in a strained voice “I'm sorry you must be mistaken, for I do love to partake in the finer things in life but I don't believe I've done enough to warrant being arrested.” He was truly anxious now. Who had sent these men to get him? Could they really imprison him? 

The men that led him did not respond. So he desperately said to them “I'm a viscount! You can't arrest me for such a foolish charge! There will be outrage by my family” He didn't have much to bargain with but Jaskier knew that you could just imprison someone of his rank without a lot of proof and usually a trail of some sort! They simply couldn't do it! 

Two of the men looked at each other before one of them said “you? A viscount ha! you're just a lowly bard.” The other one said “ever heard of a bard being a viscount?” while nudging his counterpart. They both laughed and a few other men did so as well. That's when Jaskier realized he had no proof of who he was, after all, he was supposed to keep a low profile. What was he going to do? 

Jaskier, becoming desperate “I swear it’s true!” he said “let me send word to someone who can prove it! Please. Let me send a letter to someone they will help me prove I am who I say I am. '' If he could send word to Geralt he could bring his signet ring! Or some backup. If he could write Geralt he would come to save him, as he's done many times. He always saved him.

The men looked at each other with more uncertainty. One said, “I guess we could let him send one letter” to the man holding Jaskiers arm merely grunted.

Jaskier saw the jailhouse approaching and in a last-ditch effort pleaded to the man holding him “Please! It'll do no harm! But what would happen to you if you wrongfully imprisoned a viscount” Jaskier dug his feet into the cobblestones in an effort to slow their pace and give himself more time to convince these men to let him send word to someone. 

The man stopped, they were just a little way away from the prison but he looked down at Jaskier with pity, who in turn looked up at him with big, pleading eyes. The man sighed and released some of the tension from his arm and said. “Fine, but you can not utter a word of this to anyone. If anyone finds out the punishment will land on your head.”

Jaskier stayed quiet but nodded vigorously up at the man. Who reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of parchment and said “don't happen to have a quill do you?” Jaskier patted his pockets with his newly freed hand and withdrew a slightly battered one from somewhere in his doublet. The man handed him the small piece of parchment and said “get to it then. We don't have much time.”

Jaskier bent down onto the rough cobblestones and swiftly composed:

_ My dear Geralt, _

_ Something has befallen me in the town of Flotsam. I fear the worst. Come as soon as you can and watch your back. Bring with you my signet ring to prove who I am. Godspeed my witcher. _

_ Your bard, Jaskier _

The letter was not as elegant as those he usually wrote to his witcher but it would hopefully serve its purpose. Now he just had to pray that it would reach him in time.

He quickly folded the letter and wrote Geralt’s name and the place he would most likely be on it before handing it back to the man.

Taking it from the bard he once again twisted his arm and continued to drag him the last stretch to the prison. 

At the entrance of the prison, two guards were waiting, arms crossed with smirks firmly on their faces. Jaskier was now truly scared. He didn't think that his time in prison was going to be very nice. Not with guards like those.

One of them spoke “So this is the bardling then,” his voice was deep contemptuous rumble “about tie don't you think”

The two men holding Jaskiers arms threw him forward making him land at the guards' feet. Jaskier made to rise into a sitting position but one of them kicked him in his jaw, sending him sprawling across rough stone and leaving cuts on the side of his face. Jaskier, having learned his lesson he did not move but did utter a small sound of pain.

The men that had brought him merely nodded and turned to go, leaving Jaskier with his new jailors. 


	2. imprisoned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier's first little bit in prison.

The two guards, moving in unison, grabbed Jaskier by the arms and dragged him inside the dimly lit jailhouse. Inside there was simply a room at the entrance where guards stood watch. In this room, there was a table and a few other pieces of furniture likely put there so that the guards did not have to stand during their long shifts. At the far end of this room, there was a metal gate with a lock on it. Behind that there was only darkness with a few cells visible in the low light emitted by the first room, suggesting a long corridor of cells.

Jaskier, proving once again that he can not and will not shut up asks them in the most casual voice he can muster “So guys, guess we're going to be seeing a lot of each other for the next little while.” With barely a pause to look at the two men he continued “How long am I going to be here exactly?” He hoped these guards would not be cruel to him but their stern and cold faces made him believe that they were the type to be unnaturally cruel. 

He also hoped he could perhaps win their favor or at least not earn their cruelty. He has talked himself out of many situations before, maybe he could talk himself out of this one too? 

The guards, wearing matching smirks, merely looked at the bard who was struggling to get his feet beneath him as they dragged him down the dark corridor. One of them said “ You'll be here for a little while, bard.” in a rather saccharine voice, as if mocking him.

This did not sit well with the foolish bard so he replied in kind. “yes, yes guard but can I have a date I am to be let go or is this a sentence where someone has to come and bail me out..” 

The guards' smirks grew even wider while they listened to the man talk. Their eyes seemed to fill with a joyful light as if taking pleasure in what they said next... Seeing this stopped Jaskier nervous rambling and prompted a shiver of true fear mixed with apprehension to run down his back.

They looked at each other and then at Jaskier. The utter lack of any emotion except twisted joy in their eyes only made him more scared of them. One of them said to him “you won't be leaving here alive bard.”

Jaskier swallowed heavily, he really didn't like the surety in which the man said that. He managed to stutter out a “bu-bu-but”

They nodded looking down at him with fake pity “the punishment for debauchery is a good old hanging here and you're guaranteed to get a good one” They looked at each other knowingly.

Jaskier opened his mouth to speak but slowly closed it and realized what the man had said. He was going to hang. He couldn't fathom the fact that his death was so quickly approaching. Jaskier tried not to lose hope but he felt his chances becoming slimmer and slimmer. Even if he had written a letter to Geralt there was no guarantee the man would send it or that it would reach his witcher in time for him to save him.

The guards, oblivious or simply uncaring to Jaskier's inner turmoil threw him in a cell at the very back of the block. Jaskier did not catch himself in time and once again scraped himself on rough-hewn stone.

The guards shot one last contemptuous look at Jaskier’s fallen body before turning and going back to their station. Before they had faded into the darkness of the corridor they turned and said to him “You'll be having some guests soon.” They then disappeared into the darkness leaving the bard all alone with his thoughts.

Now, Jaskier has been in many bad situations in his days. He traveled with a witcher after all! But, lying now in this dark jail cell with the imminent threat of his death hanging over his head, he could very honestly say he had never been more scared than at this moment.

Moving slowly and trying to make the least amount of noise Jaskier gathered his sprawled limbs and crawled to one on the corners. He tucked his legs and arms close to his body hoping to gain a false sense of security from the comforting position.

He put his head in between his legs and wrapped his arms around his head, not wanting to stare at the empty darkness of the cell. He then began to turn the words the guards had said over in his head.

Guests… He didn't know anyone who would want to visit him. Except, he realized suddenly for nefarious reasons. 

Jaskier suppressed a groan but not a shiver of fear, as he realized who those guests might be. He thought that Lorendo had not caught on to his presence or even what it meant but clearly he had been mistaken. He could safely assume that Lorendo knew he was a spy and even that he was investigating him. He could only hope that Lorendo wouldn't show up in person too- Jaskier winced even thinking about what they were going to do to him. 

  
  


_______________________________

  
  


Apparently the guards' idea of “soon” was not the same as Jaskier's. He felt as though he had been sitting in the darkness for hours. And he was becoming very restless. Somehow during this time, his anxiety had continued to mount which seemingly made time pass slower.

He knew he should sleep but the horrible anticipation of what was to come was rendering that impossible. Jaskier continued to sit tensely in his corner of the cell, every small noise or perceived movement at the end of the corridor caused him to tense even more. He was exhausted, playing at the tavern had tired him out but all the other events of the night had made him even more so.

He idly wondered if the sun had risen or if it was still night. It seemed like it should be morning but after all Jaskier did not have an internal clock like some witchers he knew… 

Turning his thought to his darling witcher he prayed that he would come in time to save him. Geralt had saved the bard many times, a few times Jaskier had been quite close to dying or at least getting badly hurt. The witcher always saves him in time, he reminded himself, this time will be no different. It can't be, he repeated to himself desperately.

As Jaskier was distracted by the thoughts of the witcher two men had entered the corridor and were making their way towards him. Jaskier immediately sat up straight and watched as the shadowy figures of men made their way to him.

Jaskier began to shiver at the haunting sight. Truly terrified now that what he knew was going to happen was actually here. He curled himself more tightly into a ball while still being able to stare at the slowly approaching men.

They came to a stop in front of Jaskier, one of them, seeing his scared face and protective position smiled and said: “So I guess you know why we're here then, bard.”

Jaskier swallowed and uttered a silent prayer of thanks that at least Lorendo hasn't come in person. “Yes, I assume you're here to hurt me?” and put on his cheekiest grin. They will not break me, he thought. Geralt will come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying to write longer chapters but that means I might take longer to upload... Also, I have no attention span... like none at all.
> 
> unsure if the next chapter will Jaskier getting hurt or if it'll be about Geralt.
> 
> find me on my Tumblr! @Big-Bastard-Bard-Energy


	3. Sentence paid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier gets hurt! Big ows ahead! Torture!

The men that had entered Jaskiers cell left after a few hours, leaving behind a bruised and fearful bard. He counted himself lucky they used no instruments to hit him.

Jaskier is really regretting coming to this godforsaken town. Or maybe he's just cursed. Either way, every part of his body ached from the vicious blows dealt by the men. They had aimed mostly at his head and torso but had not forgotten to brutally smash his fingers with the heavy soles of their boots. His head swam because of their particular attention they paid to his head with their hits. However, the detachment the head injury brought allowed him to partially escape the pain his body felt.

He once again forced himself to crawl from where he lay sprawled to his corner. Gathering his wounded limbs into a protective ball even though he knew it would do nothing except maybe bring him a bit of peace. He distantly heard his own blood drip from his arms to the floor. 

Knowing he should do something to stop the bleeding Jaskier tore at the ankles of his pants until he had a few strips of cloth which he wrapped tightly around some of the open wounds on his arms or legs. He did not have too many of those but he didn't want to risk getting an infection in the filthy cell. 

Jaskier went back staring into the darkness, thoroughly shaken by this ordeal. Not knowing what was yet to come. After all, this was only his first day in prison.

__________________________

He was right in thinking that that was not the worst to come because after the first day everything got worse.

Jaskier was not fed for the entirety of his sentence, he grew weak and frail. HE as only given dirty water to drink which made him sick but would make him sicker if he didn't drink. His body is no longer able to heal itself only accumulated more injuries, many of them leaking either pus or blood. He ran a high fever which only added to the delirium brought on by repeated blows to the head. The many blows to the head had obliterated his sense of time, they also caused his ears to ring and his vision to swim. 

His clothes were torn and bloodstained no longer resembling the finery they once were. Stuck to his bloody wounds in many cases and hanging from his emaciated frame in others. They were ripped and covered in dirt and if Jaskier was in his right mind he would certainly have mourned the destruction of such nice silk but he was not and did not.

The torture had not stopped the first day, the men who had beaten him the first night came back every night. Jaskier had learned to fear any steps that sounded down the hall as the only thing they ever brought was pain. The guards also tormented him during the day, they were less physical but their taunts hurt him in other ways. They broke down who he was, the things he loved. They taunted his love for music and for his witcher, who he often called out for.

Jaskier could barely remember who he was or really, what he was before this mess before all this pain. It blurred all his memories except one.

Geralt, his darling witcher, one he traveled with for many years. He had sent a letter to Geralt, had he not? Yes, and when it reached him he would come and save him. Geralt always saved him. Right? He had to save him! If he didn't he was going to die! And he really didn't want to die all he wanted to do was be safe in Geralt's arms. How he loved those big arms. 

Jaskier sat up straight and stared fuzzily into the dark as heard footsteps approach. It was the two men again, here to hurt me, he thought. Why must they hurt me? Jaskier tried to withdraw himself into the stone wall of the cell but he could only cram so much of his body into the small corner. It was no use. It was going to hurt anyways

He heard the keys jangle as they opened the cell door and came to stand in front of him. He knew they were in front of him, it's as if he could feel their hostility. Is that how Geralt feels, he wondered, he could sense emotions. Right?

“Were back bard.” said one of the men as if Jaskier could not have heard them. And maybe he couldn't. sounds were so muddled now every one of them was making his head spin.

Then Jaskiers train of thought was once again splintered as one of them kicked him in his head sending it cracking into the wall behind it.  This, while Jaskier did not pass out, caused him to fall forward before them, making him an easy target and tore away his presence in the present.

Shattered thoughts and feelings run amok through Jaskier's head as the men beat him where he lay. Scattered fragments made their way into his train of thought.

He feels pain, he knows he does, has for a while now. How long, he wonders before the question exits his mind. The pain is increasing with every strike the men land and at some point, he begins to cry silently from his place on the floor, the tears drip over his nose and down to his very dirty hair. 

He is angry, in some distant way he knows he does not deserve the treatment he is getting but he can not express this for fear of getting an even worse beating. So, he represses the feeling, throwing it back into the muddled mess of his head.

After another blow to the head and innumerable more to his limp body Jaskier sinks happily into the shaky oblivion of head trauma and agony.

He wakes a little as the men leave when they see the sliver of his eyes they say to him “Tomorrows the day you know. The day you die” They threw their heads back and laughed as if this statement was funny.

Jaskier did not find it funny at all but he didn't feel much anymore so maybe it was funny. He did not fully evaluate those words before his eyes closed again and he slipped into a fitful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright! The next chapter is Geralt's turn to be hurt!
> 
> It snowed here again and I am very Tied of This I just want spring thank you very much.


	4. Geralt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt tries to get to Jaskier in time. With a surprise guest!
> 
> also, what is canon? I do not know her.

When Geralt received the letter he immediately noticed how little it sounded like his Dandelion. The words were inelegant and rushed, his handwriting sloppy and not as neat as it usually is. The lack of prose and kind words baffled and scared him. He immediately knew how serious the trouble Jaskier was in. 

He had heard the rumors of a strong gang controlling Flotsam but he had no idea that they would be this cocky. Arresting a viscount and an Oxenfurt spy at that was begging to have trouble at your doorstep. That rouble being a very pissed off witcher and whatever backup Geralt could muster.

But, this level of cockyness also begged the question, how strong was this gang? If they thought they could get away with this what kind of muscle were they hiding? 

Geralt knew he shouldn't go alone but struggled to think who could accompany him. He shook his head. This is no time to sit idly thinking, he had to take action. He could find backup along the way.

Geralt went up to his inn room and quickly packed all his belongings. he rushed to the stable to ready Roach. As he prepared her for the long and undoubtedly hard ride he whispered an apology in her ear. Even though he knew that she too would want him to do anything in his power to save their bard. She loved him just as much as Geralt did. Especially all the apples the bard fed her.

Mounting Roach he rode hard to  Lettenhove to retrieve Jaskiers signet ring as he had asked. This ring may be the only thing that could have him released without violence, though Geralt doubted that is how the rescue would go down. Jaskier didn't tend to incite passivity.

As he rode hard he couldn't help but wonder about Jaskier's safety. He knew that discovered spies often didn't have very nice or long sentences in jail. He berated himself for not being there with his bard, for continuing to travel with him. When Jaskier was with him he always knew that he was ok, he didn't know if Jaskier was ok anymore. He could only pray that his bard could hold on until he got there.

It took two days for him to travel to Lettenhove to get the ring and on the way to Flotsam, he realized that Triss could help him.

She had worked closely with the spy guild before and always enjoyed Jaskiers singing or at the very least his company. She would undoubtedly be willing to help him. Also, he was good with medicine and he had the feeling they would need her skills at the end of this.

So, changing destination he rode to Temeria as fast as Roach would take him.

By his fourth day of travel, Geralt was very tired. He only stopped when Roach was tired or when he needed to eat. With his mutations, he could easily continue his pace but he worried or Roach. She was looking worse for the wear. her head was always held as low as he would let it. He knew it would do no good to hurt a friend while trying to save another. So, he slowed down. He hated it but he did it anyway.

He got to Temeria as fast as he could. When he got to Triss he didn't know what to say, how to explain how much he needed her help.

But she took one look at him and said “Jaskier” a worried look on her face.

Filled with such love for his friend, it warmed his chest as nothing had since hed been riding. Her understanding chased away a bit of the darkness that had taken up residence in his heart since Jaskier’s letter.

He merely said “Yes” letting his expression and posture tell her how much he needed her. He was never very good with words but she had always understood him.

She packed her stuff as quickly as she could. Taking with her food and other essentials ut also an astonishing amount of medical supplies. Geralt hoped they would not need them but he knew how wise it was of her to bring them. 

Soon enough they were both riding out the castle gates, set for Flotsam as fast as Geralt was willing to push Roach.

Even riding with a partner could not chase his thoughts about Jaskier. What if they killed his bard? What if they hurt him so bad he would never be the same.

Geralt has saved Jaskier form so many situations but he had always been nearby. Sure death had been a close call a few times but during those occasions he had always been able to keep an eye out for the bard. And, in worst-case scenarios, be prepared to sacrifice himself for the fool. But now, he was miles away. He couldn't answer his calls or hear his screams. He could sew his wounds or comfort him in his cell. HE was helpless and he hated that feeling so very much.

Triss noticed Geralt's worry. She saw it in his movements in the way his body was tensed, as if ready to break into a run at any moment. She tried to distract him and it worked. A little.

Triss also felt guilty though. She knew she could not really have stopped what happened to Jaskier but she would hate herself forever if she slowed Geralt down enough to make Jaskier suffer longer. She knew she was slowing Geralt down, with his mutations he could easily walk through the night but Triss was a human, she could only go so long without sleep. She did her best to sleep as little as possible but she still slows him. Maybe too much.

They pushed forwards, each fighting internal battles separately but the battle against time together. They were still at least a day away from flotsam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo this took too much procrastination. I am sorry. But ill try to have the next chapter up before Friday.


	5. strung up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier is hung

Jaskier is startled awake when he hears footsteps coming down the dark hall. He had managed a fitful sleep that was nothing more than passing out after a blow to the head but it was better than nothing. When he awoke he felt disoriented and confused. The world was spinning around him, making him feel as if he was being tossed from side to side even as his body remained prone on the floor.

His body was immediately sent in the panic mode. His breath came fast and his heart tried to beat its way out of this bruised chest. Were the men back so soon? But no he couldn't have slept through a whole day this must be afternoon at the latest. 

Jaskier struggled to get his hand and knees under him as the footsteps drew even nearer. The closer they got the faster his heartbeat. He was terrified of a beating, perhaps… But there was something more, something hanging over his head, just out of reach.

Then, as he heard a key jangling in the lock, he remembered. He was to be hung today. With that realization his efforts to stand redoubled. He managed to get his bruised and battered body to cooperate and he shuffled into a corner, pressing himself against the wall as he has done many times during his stay in the prison. Though, by now he knew that it was no use.

Jaskier had given up using his voice early in his stay. The words were ignored and after a certain point, it hurt too much to speak to put in an effort. All it did was antagonize his captors and that never meant anything good for the bard. But at this moment Jaskier opened his mouth to try and talk his way out of this situation as he had done many times in the past. 

As the guards stepped into the cell Jaskier pleaded to them with a voice rough from not being used and from being dehydrated “Please don't.-Please I-I don't want to go” He couldn't get anything else past the block in his throat. He bent over in a coughing fit after uttering the few strained words.

The guards watched the pitiful figure and heard his pitiful plea. They merely smiled cruel smiles at Jaskier pain and reached into his corner, grabbing him by both arms and forcing him outwards as Jaskier struggled against them.

Jaskier fought against them for several moments but his body gave out as they dragged his now limp body down the hall. 

Jaskier reflexively flinched away from the sunlight that flooded the square. After so long in the dark, he had gotten used to it. He blinked his eyes until the world came back into focus. 

He flinched once more but this time from the sight in front of him. There were gallows set up in the middle of the square. People from the town were gathered and all were staring at him. He had never felt fear while in front of a crowd before but at this moment Jaskier had never been more scared.

Though he knew it was probably useless Jaskier scanned the crowd hoping beyond reason to see a pair of lovely golden eyes staring back, ready to spring into action. But the last of his hope drained away as no witcher lay in wait within the crowd. 

The gathered crowd cheered as he was pushed onto the temporary structure. their cheers sent Jaskiers ears ringing. As he stared at the joyful people in their eyes he felt as if he was not here, waiting for his death. He could not comprehend the noose hanging in front of his eyes nor the guards holding his arms. He always thought he would die in a dramatic way, perhaps by a scorned lover or one of the monsters Geralt was fighting. He never thought he would die like this.

They let him stand on the gallows just watching the people below. They let him hope that Geralt would arrive in time to save him. He always had before. But as the minutes passed he knew that the end approached.

Along with the end of his life, something else approached. Loredo, though no one told Jaskier that this man was him he just knew. An aura of seediness and crime hung over him. Jaskier couldn't help but sneer at the man, though this motion merely aggravated his split lip causing it to begin to leak blood over his already fairly dirt and blood smudged face.

Loredo, seeing the gesture, smiled up at the bard from where he stood below the gallows. It was not so much a smile but a baring of the teeth. A predator demonstrating to its prey. It goes without saying but the smile does not make Jaskier feel any better, in fact, it sends a shiver down his spine, making him tremble a bit where he is held standing.

Loredo then turns away from the bard and signals at the crowd making them fall into a hushed and anticipatory silence. All eyes are now on Loredo. It is clear who is in charge.

Hw waves at the crowd and begins to speak “Thank you all for gathering here today” He says loudly to the crowd “it's a very exciting day. Today we hang a criminal.” He gestures broadly towards Jaskier as he says this. The crowd cheers loudly at his words, some even stomp their feet wildly. They are like beasts smelling blood, ready to attack. To kill.

Jaskier watches his short address with a sneer. He noticed how Loredo didn't mention his crime. Most likely because there wasn't really any. But the people didn't care if he was guilty or now. They only cared about what kind of show his murder would put on.

Loredo gestures at the guards to place him over the platform. Jaskier resisted but they were so much stronger than the weak bard. Jaskier stumbled as he took his place. The noose hung so close now and even as Jaskier wished to deny his imminent death he couldn't help to think that no one was going to save him. 

He no longer really felt angry. He had been angry at Loredo for doing this and Geralt for not showing up but now- now he was just sad. He didn't want to die. He just really wanted to embrace Geralt one last time.

One of the guards lowered the noose till it hung around Jaskiers neck and though it had not yet tightened it still strangled him. He raised his now shaking hands to the rough cord grasping it tightly as if the grip he took on it could save his life. Even though he knew it could not.

Loredo was back to smiling at Jaskier and he could no longer sneer back. He turned his head away from everyone gathered as they began to stomp their feet. The frenzy for blood was mounting. Jaskier could feel it. He had felt if from beasts and monsters before to witness it radiating from humans was different. Sometimes people were monsters, Geralt had always said things along those lines and Jaskier had never understood those words better than presently.

Loredo turned to the guards and signaled at them to drop the platform.

The ground fell out from under Jaskiers feet. He gripped the rope so tightly his fingers turned white. He couldn't breathe. He struggled in the air. Thrashing about like a fish freshly caught. His legs jerked beneath him in mid-air, searching for a footing.

Soon he realized that the rabid movements did nothing but expend his last lungful of air so he stopped. He hung limply from his neck and stared into the crowd as his vision dimmed and his grip weakened. He still hoped Geralt would come. Even in his last breath.

As his vision had nearly faded to black he heard shouting. But it sounded so far away. The bard closed his eyes and slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so one last chapter which will be all comfort. Someone will be receiving all the hugs I want to be getting. (So many hugs)


End file.
